


Two Black Eyes

by SageMasterofSass



Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: Breathplay, Chase grows his own weed, Coming Untouched, Copious Amounts of Cum, Dirty Talk, Drugged Sex, I imagine Jack is probably about 18/19 in this, Light D/s, M/M, Marijuana, Monster dick!Chase, Recreational Drug Use, Suggested felching, altho maybe ill write that for another fic, but i just wanted to do be done w/ this damn thing so its only suggested, coming on command, excessive cussing, first off let me just apologize for this trash heap, uh as in its huge not that he's got an actual dragon dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 14:45:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13859937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SageMasterofSass/pseuds/SageMasterofSass
Summary: Jack was pretty suretheChase Young had magically teleported into his lab, smoked all his shitty weed, then vamoosed away like the asshole he was. But that couldn’t be right.





	Two Black Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> so this is my first fic for this fandom/ship and its,,,,,rly terrible im sorry in advance. it started as kind of a crack idea that was supposed to be super short but then it got long, and then devolved into porn? so. enjoy i guess

The room was hazy with smoke and florescent lights, the terrible kind that bleached Jack of any remaining color from his skin. He was just starting to get into his groove, pencil spinning between his fingers and his lanky frame collapsed in a black beanbag covered in little cartoon skulls. His blueprints were spread out on the mini drafting table he’d built for himself, and his bong was in his lap. It was good. Like, the weed wasn’t great, but Jack was an awkward rich kid with few non-magical social connections so whatever he managed to buy was always pretty terrible quality. But the rest of it. The being high part, the quieting of his mind part, the being able to concentrate part, and definitely the working on his designs part. Those were fucking great.

 

He’d been stuck on the plating for his latest Jackbots lately. They needed something that could maybe stand up against Xiaolin martial arts, but he’d been coming at the problem from the __completely__ wrong angle. You couldn’t just bulk up the bots and create a chain-mail like exterior. It would weigh them down, for one, and for another it wouldn’t do much protection wise. Not when it came to those stupid goody-goody children.

 

Obviously the solution here was to create a new metal compound. It had only hit him after he’d, ha, taken a hit himself. Heartier, more flexible, and much, much lighter, the metal would give his clunky bots more speed and maneuverability while also increasing their chances of standing up against the monks. In theory at least. He was still working on the formula for it, but he had twenty or so compounds he’d be able to test soon. Hell yeah, he was going to Tony Stark this bitch. Except, you know, evil. Evil Tony Stark this bitch.

 

So of course, right when he was getting into the groove of things, head bobbing along to __Panic!__ (what, you can’t go wrong with the classics) that’s when Chase Young decided to crash the party.

 

Not literally, of course. One second Jack was alone, tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth, and suddenly there was a dark presence over his shoulder, disapproving and menacing.

 

But Jack was high, and frankly didn’t give two shits right now. He didn’t even look up from the molecular structure he was sketching, just drawled, “Can you ever use the fucking door like a normal person? Or, I don’t know, maybe __knock__?”

 

The presence behind him shifted and __Panic!__ shut off with a quiet click. That got Jack’s attention.

 

“Hey!” he snapped, head jerking up and around.

 

Chase stood in the corner next to the sound system Jack had cobbled together a few years back. It was huge and clunky, probably unimpressive, but he’d installed speakers in the ceiling and could effectively shake the entire concrete basement if he turned the bass up high enough, which was all that really mattered. Mostly to piss off his parents.

 

“Can I help you?” Jack deadpanned, eyeing Chase’s tall, regal form. His face was pulled into a menacing frown, but what else was new? Those golden eyes were always filled with disdain when directed at Jack. Normally it gave him pause, filled him with an intrinsic need to try and please the older male, but, well…

 

Chase’s nose wrinkled. “What on earth are you smoking?”

 

Of course, because the evil warlord could never just come right out and __say__ why he was here. No, that was too direct. God forbid they skip the whole threatening and posturing act.

 

Jack gestured to the bong in his lap with a shrug. “Weed,” he said. The glass bong was simple; a squat little thing with red and black ripples crawling up the sides and around the bowl. If one squinted hard enough, or was high enough, the vague swirls looked kind of like dragons circling each other. The bowl was half burned and the water inside was well on its way to dirty.

 

When Chase just raised an eyebrow, Jack realized maybe the 1500 year old might not know the modern slang. “Marijuana,” he translated after a moment. “Cannabis. Sativa, if you want to be specific. God I forget how out of touch you are sometimes.”

 

The second eyebrow jumped up to join the first, probably because Jack never usually spoke to Chase that way. After a moment he said, amusement coloring his tone, “We had cannabis in ancient China, you know.”

 

Jack snorted. “Yeah, you guys made bow strings out of hemp. Not quite the same thing.”

 

“Your knowledge is impressive, but lacking.” Jack blinked at the backhanded compliment, taken off guard. But Chase continued before he could voice his confusion. “China is also the birthplace of opium, a drug that caused addictions and death across the globe. Do you really think we didn’t smoke…weed, as you call it.” He was moving closer, fingers trailing along the Frankenstein’s monster of Jack’s stereo.

 

Jack, meanwhile, couldn’t help himself. He cracked up laughing, the kind of high-pitched giggle that only appeared when he was high or really nervous. Hearing the word ‘weed’, spoken with such derision and contempt in Chase’s careful tones was freaking hilarious. “Aw man,” he sighed, wiping an imaginary tear out of his eye, “you sound like somebody’s pissed off grandpa when you say it like that.”

 

“And yet I can tell that what you’re smoking is absolute filth.”

 

That only made Jack grin, large and unabashed. He’d turned in his beanbag at some point, still sprawled with his limbs askew, but attention focused on the warlord in his lab. His blueprints had all but been forgotten. “Yeah, it is. Smells like skunk, right? But I don’t exactly have great connections seeing as how I spend all my time with sassy magical beings who hate me. So I buy from some highschooler down the road who charges me out the ass for the shit he grows in his backyard.”

 

Chase held out his hand expectantly.

 

It took a moment for the action to process in Jack’s mind. He sat staring at the outstretched fingers for a while, confused, and still couldn’t quite figure out what the fuck Chase was asking for. Was he trying to help Jack up? But Chase hated when Jack touched him, so that couldn’t be right.

 

A put upon sigh interrupted his train of thought, and Jack blinked up at the warlord. Gloved fingers snapped in front of his face. “Hand it over,” Chase demanded, though there was no heat behind the words.

 

Jack squinted at him. Fuck, his eyes were sore. They were probably red as hell by now, pupils blown. Oh. Yeah, okay, Chase was asking for his bong. Not that that made any sense either, but Jack shrugged his shoulders and handed the glass contraption over without much complaint and a half-hearted, “If you break it you owe me a new one.”

 

For a moment Chase turned it around in his hands, and Jack got distracted watching those leather clad fingers against the glass. Fuck, how could fingers be hot?

 

__They’d be even hotter inside you,__ part of his brain whispered, and Jack shut that down as fast as he possibly fucking could. His attention was caught before he could get embarrassed though, because Chase was raising the bong to his mouth and taking an expert hit off of it, thumb closed over the hole, a tiny flame erupting from his finger to light the bowl.

 

Jack’s jaw dropped.

 

The water bubbled, glass base swirling with smoke as Chase as pulled all the air out of it. Then he moved his thumb and breathed the smoke in and something settled low and hot in the pit of Jack’s stomach at the sight. Those shapely lips pressed to the glass, dark eyes closed, cheekbones sharp and evident as he breathed in, and dark hair just starting to fall across his face.

 

Then Jack registered the fact that Chase had just burned everything left in the bowl at once, and indignation quickly smothered any lust.

 

“Hey!” he whined, jumping to his feet and retrieving the bong from Chase’s now lax grip. Sure enough, everything left in the bowl was black and crispy. Fuck. Maybe?

 

Jack crouched down and scrabbled around the beanbag until he emerged with a bic lighter. __Some__ people couldn’t just magic a flame into existence.

 

Bringing the glass up to his mouth, Jack sealed the end with his mouth and covered the hole with his thumb, ignoring the part of his brain trying to remind him that Chase’s lips had been __right here__ just a moment ago. He flicked the lighter and held it to the bowl, hoping that something would light. But after a minute of fumbling and burning his thumb he finally gave up with a curse, throwing the bic away in disgust. It clattered somewhere in the distance, and a Jackbot unfolded itself from the wall to retrieve it.

 

Jack wasn’t paying attention, too busy whirling on the warlord currently smirking at him.

 

“Dude,” he said, pointing an accusing finger. “You are a __bowl hog__. Not fuckin’ cool. Do you know how much that brat charged me for just one g?”

 

Chase looked entirely too pleased with himself. But his lips were also pursed strangely tight. That mystery was solved when he exhaled smoke through his nose all slow and luxurious, like the heat of it wasn’t bothering him at all. He parted his lips, tongue slipping out to wet the bottom one, and smoke curled along the sharp edges of his fangs.

 

Jack’s jaw hit the floor again.

 

“Disgusting,” Chase sighed, more smoke following on his exhale. “Do you smoke this all the the time?”

 

“Guh,” said Jack, because his jaw was still on the floor. Then a moment later, “Uh, yeah. Its kinda…all I can get?”

 

A raised eyebrow and soft hum was all he got in response, and then Chase was gone, just like that.

 

Jack stared at the spot he’d been standing for a long time, trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened. Cause he was pretty sure __the__ Chase Young had magically teleported into his lab, smoked all his shitty weed, then vamoosed away like the asshole he was. But that couldn’t be right.

 

Concentration absolutely shot, Jack abandoned his blueprints entirely and wandered off to do literally anything else.

 

oOo

 

Chase showed up again several days later.

 

This time, Jack wasn’t high, and was buried waist deep in a strangely malfunctioning Jackbot.

 

__In this Moment__ cut off abruptly, and Jack hit his head on the inside of the robot when he jerked in surprise. Cursing, he extracted himself gingerly, his ripped tank-top and arms smeared liberally in grease.

 

Sure enough, there was Chase, fingers on the volume knob of the stereo.

 

Jack squinted at him, feeling his heartbeat kick up a little. “Uh, can I help you?” he asked, voice more squeaky then he would prefer. Without the drug in his system, Jack’s anxiety spiked around the Heylin warrior, and his thoughts, already a chaotic mess, tumbled over themselves in endless, unhelpful loops.

 

“I’ve brought you something,” Chase replied, pacing closer. He wasn’t wearing his armor today, which was odd, and he was dressed only in skin-tight black under clothes. It was distracting is what is was, watching those lithe muscles move under the dark fabric, but Jack didn’t miss it when Chase tossed something small towards him. “Consider it a gift.”

 

“Gift?” Jack echoed dumbly, then fumbled the parcel when he tried to catch it. It was a small leather satchel, tied at one end with a leather thong. Jack carefully opened it and then peered inside, mouth going a little dry at the contents. And then he let out a sharp bark of laughter.

 

“Is this a dime bag?” he asked, tipping several buds into his palm. They had a strong scent, earthy but soft, strangely floral, but were obviously weed nonetheless.

 

“I am not familiar with the term,” Chase droned, unimpressed. “But if you’re asking whether or not I am replacing the cannabis from the other day, then the answer is yes.” His lip curled, a faint snarl of disgust leaving his mouth. “Although it certainly wasn’t worth replacing and you’ll find this strain infinitely superior.”

 

Jack was already moving towards his desk, digging up both bong and grinder. “Yeah, it smells good, not like skunkweed at all,” he called over his shoulder, anxiety partially forgotten in his excitement. “Where’d you get it, anyways? You should set me up with your dealer.” His grinder finally emerged from under a pile of scrap metal, black and adorned in little metal spikes, and he popped a couple buds into it.

 

“I have no…dealer.” Again, the modern slang sounded out of place and slightly hilarious in Chase’s dulcet tones. But Jack was more concerned with figuring out where the warlord was getting such good kush. He propped his hip against his desk, working the grinder in his hands.

 

“Where do you get it then? Don’t tell me you just magic-ed it into existence, that’d be lame.” And also potentially dangerous. Magic weed had to be different from regular weed.

 

Chase shook his head, long hair shifting against his shoulders. “No, I grow it myself.”

 

For the third time that week, Jack’s jaw hit the floor. His gaze bounced between the grinder and Chase a few times as he remembered the giant garden he’d seen in the warlord’s citadel, and then he let out a breathy noise of excitement. “Woah. You could totally make a killing selling this stuff, be a world class drug lord.”

 

Chase’s nose wrinkled in distaste. “Petty crime doesn’t interest me,” he sniffed, almost visibly offended by the idea. His features relaxed into impassivity though, and he waved a lazy hand through the air. “Enjoy your gift, Spicer, but don’t expect such a courtesy from me again.”

 

Jack had moved on to picking the stems out of the shake, setting them aside on the desk, but his head snapped up at Chase’s words. “Wait!” he called out, mouth moving before he could think. He slammed his jaw shut with an audible clack at Chase’s single raised eyebrow. “Uh. I mean…Don’t you want to smoke this with me?”

 

For a moment Chase seemed to consider him, weighing Jack up with his gaze in a way that had the genius fidgeting where he stood. Only after the silence had grown oppressive did he ask, “And why would I want to do that?”

 

Jack really didn’t have a good answer for that he realized. Why __would__  Chase want to spend time with him? But his mouth apparently didn’t get the memo from his brain, because it was moving on its own before Jack could consciously stop it. “I mean the offer only really stands as long as you’re not going to smoke the whole bowl in a single hit again cause that was kind of a dick move, even if it was a little impressive.” And ridiculously hot. “Also I’m kind of curious to see what you’re like when you’re high. Like, you couldn’t possibly be a giggly high, but maybe more relaxed? Do you get the munchies? I know I get the munchies like crazy, but I’m usually so focused on whatever I’m working on that I don’t really notice till later.”

 

Chase was across the room in the blink of a reptilian eye, hand forcefully covering Jack’s mouth and biding him into silence. “If I agree to this will you __shut up__?”

 

“Probably,” Jack admitted from under Chase’s palm, eyes wide and knees shaking just a little. “I’m a lot less hyper when high.”

 

The noise that left Chase’s mouth, a kind of half sigh half grunt thing, wasn’t necessarily one of agreement. But he didn’t disappear either, strangely enough, so Jack took it as one and sidled away from the warlord to go fill the bong with fresh water. If he paused to get as much grease off his skin as possible, well, it wasn’t because he was trying to clean up for Chase or anything.

 

When the bowl was full and Jack had found his lighter, he shifted awkwardly on his feet and then held them both out towards Chase. “Uh, guess I should offer you the green since you’re a guest?”

 

Chase took them without comment. Jack watched in slight awe as the ancient warlord took an expert hit, the air around him immediately filling with the strong earthy scent of the strain. It was good, heady and soft, and had Jack relaxing before Chase even passed the bong over to him. His muscles near liquefied after his own first hit even as he coughed a little into his elbow.

 

“Fuck, that’s good,” he rasped. “Wait, is this indica?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Jack usually preferred sativa since it was more likely to help him get work done, but he didn’t mind indica. Whereas sativa helped him focus and gave him the ability to follow a single train of thought instead of his usual twenty, indica made him lax and happy, soft.

 

Which might be why, after passing the bong back and forth for a little while, Jack was feeling relaxed enough to finally ask the question that had been burning at the edge of his mind for three or four days now. “Chase, what the hell are you doing here?”

 

Fuck, it was completely unfair for Chase’s lips to look so ungodly good pursed with smoke billowing out between them. But here he was, blowing smoke idly in Jack’s direction, and looking as unimpressed as ever. “I’m repaying you,” he replied easily, setting the bong aside and claiming Jack’s desk chair in the same fluid motion. He sat with his legs spread, slightly slumped, not unlike an idle lord in a throne.

 

Jack swallowed heavily. “That’s not what I meant.”

 

“Then what did you mean, Spicer?”

 

“Uh.” What __did__ he mean? How the hell was he supposed to articulate his thoughts with Chase looking like that and lounging around in Jack’s lab like he owned it? Fuck, he was too high for this.

 

“Come now, you can’t be that impaired,” Chase pressed, and Jack laughed a little because he was __absolutely__ that impaired.

 

“How are you __not?__ ” Jack drawled back, and when he only got a snort in response, went to turn away. A gloved hand on his wrist stopped him, pulling him back surprisingly gently.

 

“You still haven’t asked your question,” Chase reminded him.

 

For some reason, all of the saliva in Jack’s mouth dried up at once and he swallowed hard. When he didn’t respond immediately there was another tug on his wrist, this one not nearly so gentle. It sent him stumbling back a few steps, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the chair between Chase’s legs. Another tug had him sitting in the free space between the warlord’s thighs, which wasn’t very big, and also wasn’t entirely comfortable.

 

“Uh,” squeaked Jack.

 

The hand on his wrist disappeared and then snaked around his waist, pulling him back against Chase’s chest. “Go on,” murmured a voice in his ear, “ask your question.”

 

Jack’s jaw opened and closed a few times, but the only sounds to escape were soft and confused. What the fuck was happening right now? Was he hallucinating? Did he fucking pass out?

 

But the gloved hand on his waist, sliding up towards his stomach now, felt too real and heavy to be a dream. “What the hell is going on?” he managed, but only barely.

 

That low voice chuckled in his ear, raising all the small hairs on the back of Jack’s neck and making him shiver. “Perhaps I am more affected than you think,” Chase murmured.

 

It took a moment for the words to register, and then Jack was spluttering. “Are you telling me you’re one of those people who gets horny when high?” he asked, trying to sound incredulous but landing somewhere between terrified and excited.

 

Another low laugh, and the hand on his stomach crept further and further upwards, until Jack could feel the supple leather against the skin of his throat. Chase’s hand paused there, fingers stroking lightly before taking a firm hold of the pale neck. Jack’s reaction was instantaneous. His head tipped back against Chase’s shoulder and a soft moan spilled from his lips, turning into a high whine the harder Chase squeezed. His breath stuttered and then died entirely, face slowly reddening the longer the warlord choked him.

 

Just when Jack thought he was going to pass out, his fingers claws against the arm rest of the chair, body a tight bow against Chase, and black dots dancing in his vision, the Heylin warrior finally released him.

 

The slim frame was wracked with coughs, and Chase hushed him softly, fingers gentle against the quickly bruising skin of Jack’s throat.

 

“So submissive,” Chase murmured. “You didn’t fight me at all. I could have killed you without you lifting a single finger.”

 

Jack wanted to point out that he was also high as fuck and that the drug currently relaxing his body definitely had to do with his reaction. But the words were hazy and far away, unimportant, and Chase was touching him again anyways. Long, thick fingers tipped his chin back until his head was against Chase’s shoulder once more, warm breath tickling his ear. They slipped up, over his chin, and tapped at his lips in question. Jack opened them easily, letting out a quiet sound as two fingers pushed inside.

 

“Suck,” commanded the voice in his ear, soft and husky.

 

Jack did as he was told, sealing his lips around the leather and sucking earnestly, tongue moving against the fingers. He wasn’t aware he was making a quiet, needy noise in the back of his throat until Chase shifted behind him, cursing quietly.

 

And uh, yeah. That was Chase’s dick. Hard and poking Jack in the small of his back.

 

Jack pulled off the fingers with an obscenely wet pop, gasping a little. “What the fuck is happening right now?” he wondered, dazed, feeling a little like maybe everything he knew about Chase was being swept out from under his feet.

 

There was a huff against his ear. “Didn’t you already answer this question, Spicer?”

 

“Uh, I asked if you got horny when high and then you stuck your fingers down my throat, so..yeah, I guess? But-”

 

Saliva wet fingers tapping against his lips interrupted his words, and Chase made a contemplative noise. “I certainly didn’t stick them down your throat, as you say,” he mused. “But I could certainly fit something else down there if you’re interested.

 

Jack choked on his own spit.

 

“You seem much more relaxed than usual thanks to the drug,” Chase continued. “I wonder if that would make it easier for you to take me down your throat? It would certainly keep you quiet.”

 

“ _ _Fuck__.”

 

A smile on cool, well-shaped lips pressed against Jack’s cheek. “Would you like that, Spicer? I doubt you have the coordination right now to conduct such a thing yourself, but I could lay you down on your back. Tip your head to bare your throat. Slide into that busy, little mouth of yours. Maybe I’d even be able to see myself under such beautiful, pale skin. You’d still choke on me of course, I’m too big not to, but I think I’d enjoy watching it.”

 

Jack’s mind took the words in sluggishly. There was a trembling under his skin, a kind of burning need that grew the more Chase spoke. He was hard in his jeans already, breath coming in breathy little pants as Chase’s fingers lazily stroked at his throat. Occasionally they would tighten just enough to restrict his air flow, and he would find himself moaning softly.

 

“But there are better things to do with such a relaxed body, no? The more relaxed you are, the easier you are to prepare. And I have to say Jack, I’ve been dreaming about finding my way into your body. You’re so small, so lithe compared to me. I can only imagine your tightness, your heat.” Chase’s other hand was suddenly on his thigh, stroking small, concentric circles that had Jack’s brain misfiring.

 

“ _ _Jesus,__ Chase,” Jack mumbled, lips barely moving on the words. Between the near-hypnotizing effect the warlord was having on him, and the indica still in his system, he was amazed he got the words out at all. But this was kind of a huge deal? His childhood crush was touching him and talking about wanting to __fuck__ him and this was a dream come true for Jack, okay? Well, several dreams. The kind of dreams he woke up sticky and embarrassed from.

 

And maybe it was also the weed that was making Chase act like this, but in Jack’s experience he’d never found the drug to be so mind altering that it changed you all together. It just lowered your defenses, relaxed you, made you more likely to act on impulses you normally controlled.

 

God, Jack wanted this to be an impulse Chase usually controlled.

 

Jack licked his lips several times, and finally managed to speak again. “There’s uh…Bed. Next room.” The words came out soft but demanding. Like hell Jack was going to lose his virginity in a rolling desk chair.

 

Luckily, Chase didn’t seem to mind. Strong arms wrapped around Jack as the warlord stood. It was a little awkward being carried with his back to Chase’s chest, but it was only a few short steps into the little side room where Jack kept his bed. The room had no other furniture, though the concrete floor was littered with dirty clothing. But what could Jack say? He spent more time in his lab than he did sleeping. Now he wished he had at least picked up this morning.

 

With very little ceremony Jack was dumped on the bed. He bounced once, twice, squeaking a little as he rolled over to find Chase standing over him. The warlord looked slightly disheveled, pupils wide and dark as he took in the form beneath him, hair ever just so out of place. Jack licked his lips, and Chase was on him in a second.

 

Jack’s lungs still felt like they were full of smoke, cloudy and slow, and his limbs responded to his thoughts with seconds worth of delay. Still, he tried to follow the silent commands of Chase’s hands, moving this way and that as the warlord divested him of his clothing. When he was finally naked he lay shivering against the mussed comforter, attention caught and held as he watched Chase strip methodically.

 

“Can’t you just, like, magic them away?” Jack asked after a moment, brow pulling low in confusion. “Pretty sure I’ve seen you do that before.”

 

Chase cast him an aggravated look but said nothing, just went back to carefully folding his clothing as it came off.

 

“Wait. Don’t tell me you’re too high right now.”

 

Another glare and then Chase was completely naked, prowling towards the bed. Jack’s mouth went dry at the sight but he still ended up giggling. “Fuck, the great Chase Young, too high to use magic for mundane human tasks.”

 

“Not too high to fuck you, though.” And that throaty purr had Jack shutting up __quick,__ practically swallowing his own tongue. Of course he’d already been hard, but he felt his dick give a pulse at the words. He’d kind of forgotten it was just…waving around in the open though. God, he was glad he was high for this. He’d be an anxious, babbling mess otherwise. As it was he felt only a mild amount of embarrassment; he was entirely too focused on the warlord kneeling on the bed and crawling towards him to be worried with stupid emotions like that.

 

Having at least two hundred pounds of hot, naked Heylin warrior hovering over top of you was way better than anything Jack had come up with in his midnight fantasies. He sighed happily, wiggling under Chase’s form, and reached up to wrap his arms around the warlord’s neck. Instead, his hands were pushed away and Chase flipped him deftly over on the mattress. Jack squeaked at the sudden movement.

 

“Mm, you really are this pale everywhere,” Chase murmured from behind him, and Jack could feel soft lips trailing down the length of his spine. “Beautiful.”

 

Jack pillowed his arms under his head, shifting to get comfortable. His dick was trapped between his stomach and the bed and he found himself hunching his hips a little to get some friction against it. Almost immediately there was a slap against his ass that was hard enough to make him yelp.

 

“Be still,” Chase admonished.

 

“Easy for you to say,” Jack grumbled in reply, and then yelped again when rough fingers, this time sans gloves, found his throat and pulled backwards. It caused him to arch almost uncomfortably, but Chase was there at his back, a warm, heavy presence, his voice in Jack’s ear.

 

“Be still, or I will bind you,” the warlord promised, and Jack swallowed hard. The fingers against his throat, surprisingly soft, squeezed gently in warning. When Jack said nothing they trailed away, around his neck, down his back, and Chase’s presence retreated with them.

 

Jack let out a shaky breath and collapsed, even as Chase asked, “Where do you keep your lubricant?”

 

“Uh.” Patting around the comforter turned up nothing, so Jack swiped at some of the pillows instead, grabbing a few to stuff under his hips. Sure enough, under the second one was a half empty bottle that he handed back to Chase. He thought he heard Chase mumble something about the quality, but evidently it wasn’t bad enough to put the warlord off completely because the next second there was cool liquid dripping all over Jack’s ass.

 

“Hey!” he snapped, resisting the urge to squirm away, “That’s fucking cold!”

 

Chase didn’t seem to care. His hands, big and warm, pulled Jack’s ass cheeks apart to get the lube between them. “Have you ever done this for yourself?” he asked, a single finger trailing softly across Jack’s hole. “Worked yourself open on your own fingers?”

 

Jack swallowed hard. He had of course, but he was also sexually frustrated and infinitely curious. “I tried,” he admitted, voice slightly strangled as that single finger pushed gently against him, just barely breaching his body before retreating. The coldness of the lube didn’t seem to matter now. “Never could uh, get the angle right though. Hurt my wrist, couldn’t get enough pressure against my prostate.”

 

Chase made a considering noise behind him and the finger pressed harder until it was in to the first knuckle.

 

A soft whine left Jack’s mouth at the intrusion, and another slap against his ass had him yelping again. It also, however, distracted him enough that a second finger could worm into him too quickly, bringing with it a faint burn of pain. The two pumped in and out of him, spreading lube and making Jack’s whine louder, more petulant.

 

“Hush,” Chase admonished. “If I don’t prepare you properly you’ll never be able to take me.”

 

“Somebody’s over confident in his dick size,” Jack muttered uncharitably. But a second later something hot and wet and absolutely __massive__ was pressing insistently against his thigh. “Uh. Okay, maybe you’re not being dramatic,” he amended, mouth gone dry. Fuck he wanted that __in him__ but there was no way in hell it was ever going to fit.

 

Chase hadn’t seemed to get the memo. He was still kneeling between Jack’s spread thighs, working those fingers in and out of him, thumb rubbing against Jack’s rim in a bid to relax.

 

“Hey, Chase?” Jack attempted to push himself up on his elbows, intending on turning over to look at the warlord, but a solid hand in the small of his back and a warning growl kept him in place. “Okay, sure no moving, got it. But uh, you know I haven’t done this before, right? Like, actually had sex? And I think your dick might be a little too big for a first timer, just saying. Don’t get me wrong I love a good challenge as much as the next guy but like-”

 

Another growl cut him off. “Be silent, or I will gag you,” came the soft warning.

 

Jack, because he couldn’t always be a genius, kept going regardless. “Look, that’s the second time you’ve threatened me today but so far you haven’t made good on anything so like, excuse me if I don’t believe you. I’m just seriously concerned here.”

 

The fingers inside Jack pulled out far too quickly, making him hiss, and then Chase’s presence at his back was gone entirely. Jack’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t chased the warlord off completely had he? This was probably like, a once in a lifetime occasion right here and he was going to be so pissed if his stupid mouth ruined it for him.

 

But Chase was back a moment later, his weight shifting the mattress. Then Jack’s bong was being pushed into his view along with his little bic lighter. The water inside was still dirty, but the bowl had been repacked, fresh and green.

 

Jack raised an eyebrow, despite the fact that Chase wouldn’t be able to see it from behind him. “Are you trying to drug me?”

 

“I’m trying to get you to relax,” Chase returned, and…that was actually a really good idea.

 

Without further argument, Jack took the bong. It was a little awkward trying to light the bowl while laying on his stomach, ass held in the air by the pillows under his hips. But he managed, taking a long hit that had him coughing afterwards. But the heady plant did its work and he found himself melting against the bed, even as he went in for another hit.

 

“Better,” Chase said from somewhere behind him. Then hands were back on Jack’s ass, spreading him open, thick fingers sliding into him. Jack hummed at the intrusion, wriggling his hips a little.

 

For several minutes Chase worked him open while Jack smoked leisurely, occasionally moaning into the glass when his prostate was brushed against. It always seemed to be an accident though, Chase mostly ignoring it in favor of trying to fit as many fingers into Jack as possible.

 

Jack’s dick, which had softened without much stimulus, was taking interest in the proceedings again. Remembering Chase’s warnings Jack resisted the urge grind against the mattress, but only just barely. Which is why he made a high pitched strangled noise when Chase’s hand was suddenly underneath him, pulling his dick back between his spread thighs.

 

“Oh fuck.”

 

“That’s the idea, yes,” Chase hummed, like the total asshole he was. He had one hand stroking gently along Jack’s cock, and the other trying to fit a fourth finger into his already stretched hole. Jack’s fingers twitched around the bong, reminding him of its existence. Shit, he didn’t want the water spilling all over his bed. But he also didn’t want to move or ask Chase to put it on the floor for him, because it would mean those talented hands wouldn’t be touching him anymore.

 

In the end, he didn’t have to ask for anything, because those hands withdrew anyways. Jack made a noise of protest which was instantly shushed as the bong was slipped from his fingers and presumably set aside.

 

Chase’s long, heavy form pressed against Jack’s back next, cock brushing against pale thighs and making them quiver ever so slightly. Jack really did feel so much more relaxed now, and definitely more stretched, practically empty without Chase inside to fill him up. But he still tensed just a little when the head of Chase’s dick pressed insistently against his hole. He felt __huge,__ bigger even than the four fingers the warlord had worked into him.

 

One of Chase’s hands was suddenly there on his throat, pulling him back and guiding his face to the side so the warlord could press their lips together. Jack froze a little, startled, but melted into the kiss easily enough. Chase’s lips were smooth and hot, guiding his, and damn it was weird to think that this was his first kiss. That he’d been __finger fucked__ before he’d ever been kissed. The thought was impossible to hold on to, however, with Chase’s fingers on his jaw, guiding his mouth open so that a slick tongue could push into his mouth. At the same time Chased pressed his hips forward, slowly, inexorably pressing into Jack’s body.

 

Jack’s breath caught and held, body going tense, and then just a moment later when Chase bottomed out, going completely lax. He was so __full.__ It was foreign, weird as hell, not to mention kind of painful. But it was also so fucking good. The pressure against his prostate and just the general sensation of being pressed and held open, of someone else occupying space inside him.

 

“Good,” Chase purred, lips brushing Jack’s as he spoke. The hand on Jack’s chin drifted lower to his throat, keeping him arched up into the warlord and squeezing gently. “Just like that, Spicer. Relax. Take me.” Powerful hips pressed against Jack’s ass, setting up a slow, rolling motion that had Chase breathing heavily into Jack’s ear. Jack was trying to moan, but the sounds came out quiet and strangled thanks to the hand on his throat, blocking his air flow.

 

If you had asked Jack before this what Chase Young might have been like in the sack, he probably would have said rough. Maybe even violent. But there was nothing terribly rough or violent about Chase’s heavy presence or the rhythmic movement of his hips, the long, dark hair Jack could feel brushing against his sensitized skin, or even the hand on Jack’s throat. It was, however, __dominant. All consuming.__ The weight of the warlord pushed Jack down into the mattress, eclipsing nearly every thing else, and Chase’s heat, his strong hand, the faint whisper of fangs against Jack’s cheek, all commanded attention. Even the way he fucked into Jack was exact, inexorable, like the rolling in of the tide. It was powerful and inevitable; there was nothing you could to do to stop it.

 

Jack felt like he was going to shake apart at the seams from it all. His mind had long since gone hazy, and the lack of oxygen to his brain was definitely not helping things. But it meant that his awareness of his limbs was lacking at best, leaving his limited attention to focus on everywhere Chase was making contact with him, and the pleasure-pain of something so enormous pressing into him over and over again. His stomach was molten with the feeling, and it licked up his spine in flames every time Chase managed to hit his prostate.

 

Unfortunately, it was obvious Chase was also kind of an ass. No longer trapped underneath his body, Jack’s cock wasn’t getting nearly as much friction as it could otherwise, and if he had enough brain space left he might actually cry at how badly it ached. He could feel it pulsing in time with Chase’s thrusts, leaking pre-cum all over the sheets, but there was nothing he could do about it.

 

“Chase,” he found himself pleading, but the hand on his throat only tightened and the warlord’s motions grew more forceful than ever. It had the bed thumping against the concrete wall, and Jack scrabbling at the sheets, unsure whether he wanted to push back into it or try and roll Chase off of him so he could finally reach his dick.

 

The pressure inside him was growing, and growing, until it was so good it was painful, and Jack felt tears beading at the corners of his eyes. “Fuck, Chase, please!”

 

Warm lips pressed to his temple. “Hush,” Chase murmured, surprisingly gentle, “you’re almost there.”

 

Jack wanted to snap at him and ask almost where to __what__  because this wasn’t a fucking road trip here. But there were suddenly two fingers plunging into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue, and Jack could do nothing but make a noise of complaint and drool around them. He was tempted to bite down, but found himself sucking dutifully instead when that smooth voice ordered him to.

 

“Good,” the warlord praised, and did his voice sound more strained now, his breath coming more quickly? “So obedient, Jack, you listen so beautifully. I want you to do one more thing for me. I want you to come.”

 

Jack wanted to laugh in his stupid face. His poor dick __hurt__ it was so hard, and tucked behind him it was getting almost no friction. There was no way he was going to come without getting some attention there. But his body, traitor that it was, responded to Chase’s voice on command, knocking all of the air out of him with the suddenness of it.

 

All of the pressure that had been building up just beneath Jack’s navel expanded at once, until he burned with pleasure down to his toes and up to the roots of his hair, body shaking with the force behind it. He couldn’t tell if he’d actually come or not because the feeling was too intense to recognize as an orgasm, dragging on and on until he thought he’d choke on it, but Chase still praised him nonetheless, pressing almost frantic kisses to the side of Jack’s face. Was he crying, screaming, __breathing__ even _ _?__ He couldn’t fucking tell. His brains were officially blown, and he could only just barely feel the way Chase was now pounding into him, the hand on Jack’s face beginning to sprout suspicious claws.

 

Jack surfaced what felt like minutes later, but could have been seconds. Just in time to hear Chase groan above him, and god wasn’t that a good sound? Fuck, that was going straight into the spank bank for years to come goddamn. Followed closely by the almost imperceptible way Jack could feel Chase trembling against him as the warlord came, thick length of his cock seeming to almost swell with it.

 

Jack groaned lowly, already too full. His insides felt hot, wet, and as Chase gently pulled back from him, he could feel the rush of cum as it spilled out of his pliant body.

 

Chase made an appreciative noise at the sight, and curious despite himself, Jack reached back a hand to touch his sore rim. Shit, he was going to be feeling that for days to come.

 

Without the weight of an overbearing warlord on top of him, Jack finally managed to roll over. He blinked stupidly up at Chase,who was standing by the bed, seemingly taking in Jack’s form with an appreciative tilt to his lips. Jack cocked an eyebrow.

 

“Someone seems smug.”

 

Chase hummed. “This is a good look for you.”

 

“In need of a shower?” Because god did he need a shower. He could still faintly feel cum dripping out of him, smearing on his thighs and ass.

 

“Well-fucked,” Chase returned, a certain glint in his eye that had Jack’s dick valiantly trying to make a reappearance. Jack ignored it, flapping a lazy hand instead.

 

“Congrats, you’re a sex god, what else is new. Make yourself useful for once and get me a rag though? Pretty sure you emptied a few gallons of cum into me here.”

 

That glint in Chase’s eye sparked even brighter, and his mouth pulled up into a smirk as he stalked closer to the bed. “Roll over,” he commanded quietly. “I can certainly help clean you up.” A forked tongue dragged over those full lips- a demonstration -and Jack squeaked.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to come hang out with me on [tumblr](http://scribespirare.tumblr.com/). I take requests!


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